Rigor Mortis
by Stella Purple
Summary: The first Ancient was a female.
1. Seed

**Rigor Mortis**

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 _The first Ancient was a female._

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This story is unedited.

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Lady was the first and only female Ancient who was ever spawned from one of Azrael's body parts. She was created from the brain, thus becoming the only Ancient who inherited not only the knowledge that Azrael possessed, but also had the most controlled of her thirst.

She who called herself Lady was not originated from a dead body, but one of a living. The girl she used to be was at the wrong place at the wrong time at the time, attacked and consumed and blended and molded into one with Azrael's brain. When she woke, she was no longer the girl she was. She had no memory of the human, had no slightest recollected of who the previous individual was supposed to be. She knew only one awareness—Azrael's. She knew of what had transpired, that the other angels had cut up her 'father' into seven different parts as punishment for drinking another angel's blood.

She said 'father', because he was the origin of her, yet she was a completely separate entity from him. She was she, and he was he. It did not matter that she had his memories. She had her own thoughts and awareness.

She knew that there were other body parts out there, could feel them in subtle hums from different parts of the earth. And so she went on a search of her father's other body parts. She found them and placed them near the graveyards, just like the place where she first found herself at. In time, three of those body parts too spawned with other corpses.

It astonished her that they were not so quite like her—none of them were in league with her. Upon discovering these spawned creatures, they admit to have no memory of their 'father' nor able to resist the temptation of blood. In fact, for the first sight of chance, they ripped open those poor unfortunate humans into pieces and sucked out all of their blood, while Lady watched from afar, eyes twinkling with amazement.

She noticed of how strange the other spawns are. Not just on how they looked, but also on everything. She compared herself to them and found that they thought differently from her. She thought that the other body parts would have waited for unlucky trespassers in the graveyard, just like hers. She did not want to intrude the progress, afraid they would come out differently. They ended up different, anyway.

Unlike her who retained the original body's smooth and youthful skin, theirs dried up and wrinkled in unusually rough and uneven surfaces. She could move with ease even after her spawning process had just finished, they stumbled and struggled as a result for using dead muscles as their host.

Waiting, in the silence. She remembered being patient. She remembered on how to wait and strike at the perfect timing. Then came the devouring part, which she found was a very blissful reward. So young and full of life. So full of tasty, fresh blood. That was how she was able to get this 'beautiful, angelic appearance', as the villagers liked to describe her as. Her body managed to retained its outer appearance, while her inside was filled with subtle, controlled thirst.

Not only that, but Lady only needed to feed once every month; did not even need to drink plenty and kill her donor. Worms, bigger in size than her 'siblings', comes out from her skin ever so smoothly and moved, scratching throughout the villagers at night and consumed upon their blood while those humans remained unaware in their peaceful sleep. And once they are one, the worms returned, leaving the humans as they were.

The other spawns killed and drank as much blood as they could find in their path, uncaring of what resulted in the way. When they fed, their worms, much smaller in size, did not return but remain inside the corpses. It was not long before those corpses her 'siblings' fed from arised—and just their them—fed upon the humans. Soon, it became inevitable for villagers to be aware of their existence. Blood suckers, vampires; they are many names of which they called them.

Lady took the remaining three body parts that had not spawned and placed them next to some freshly killed bodies. She left them to spawn on their own without guidance, unlike the first three. She disappeared silently, never showing herself upon the others. Some time passes, and they began to call themselves the Ancients, as part of their origin, their father, was older than other beings that crawl on this earth.

It has been millenias since the last sign of Lady. None of the Ancients ever seen her since their first meeting. Some of them have never even met her at all.


	2. Descendant

**Rigor Mortis**

Some time passed. The Lady watched from afar as her young siblings grew and evolved. But it was not just them. She, too, changed.

It was Europe in the thirteenth century. A deceased called Black Death killed hundreds of millions of humans. She never saw death so often as then. She was passing an unnamed small town when a woman stopped her.

"Please…." she grabbed the edge of Lady's robe, her hands covered in dirt. The human woman was in the verge of dying, just like the so many faceless humans she came upon. "Please, I'd do anything. Please save my son."

Lady did not know if the woman somehow knew that she could, or she was just too desperate. Her plead made her stopped and considered. Unlike her young siblings who created strigois ever so often after the feeding, Lady always made sure that part of her extensions—the worms—returned. She could let them stay, consume a body and create a new individual. But she never felt the urge to keep mindless slaves. Unless….

"Where is he? Is he alive?" Lady asked the woman, who in turn showed her where she kept her dying son. She led her to a small tend inside a crumbled stone house. The boy was around ten, lying on a pile of make-shift bed. His breathing was hard. Just like his mother, he was covered with dirt from head to toe.

Lady turned to the woman, tone as soft as it was low.

"I could stop his death, but," the human woman started to smile with hope, "I shall save him alone. You'll never see him again."

"Take him, m'lady. There is nothing left in this town but death. I, too, will not last very long. Knowing that he will be out there somewhere, safe and sound, is enough for me," the woman said meekly, a tear slided down her face.

"Very well," Lady replied.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, m'lady!" she exclaimed, though her throat was dry. She approached her son, placed a gentle hand upon his cheek. "You'll be save, my son. I'm so happy." With that, the woman placed a kiss upon his cheek one last time and stepped away.

The mother watched from the sideline as the strange woman stepped in. Strange, because among all of these infected people, she stood tall and heathy. She knew the moment she saw her that there was something out of the ordinary, out of this world about her. Maybe she was death, maybe she was a miracle. If she could save her son, she would give up anything.

She saw the Lady removed his blanket and then ripped out his clothes. She placed a finger upon his skin, rubbing across her son's patched skin. She moved her tongue, examining him, the movement almost sensual. She heard him groaned in pain. She saw the Lady did something to her arm. Something white snaked out of her hand and crawled down to her son. Instantly, she gasps. She knew it was too good to be truth. And to think that she almost had hope for her son. The Lady was no savior. She was evil!

"No, stop! What are you doing?" the human woman tried to stop her. But it was too late. The process had begun. The worm was eating the boy from the inside out, blending in and becoming one. Soon enough, there would be no telling which of him ended and where it began. And just like her creation, the boy would be reborn anew. A clean blank slate of pure perfection.

The boy wailed in pain when the worm-like snake bit into his stomach. He thought the plague was bad. This creature was _worst_. The thing, he could feel it eating his insides. It hurts. God, it hurts so bad! Why wasn't anyone helping him? Why did he has to experience this pain? What did he do wrong to deserve this punishment? Why wasn't her mother do something? Stop the pain. Please! I don't want to die….

Lady witnessed as the boy struggled on his bed, his body twisting and jerking at every step of the way. Soon. Once the consumption process ended, the boy stopped. No movement. No screaming. No breathing. The woman wailed behind her, thinking that he were dead. When in fact, it was just beginning. Lady waited patiently in the sideline as her worm—her extension—blended in with the boy's body. She began to see the signs of death disappearing from the boy, along with his mortality.

Muddy skin was replaced with pasty white, resembling hers. His dull dark hair grew out of his skull. Light blonde strands made out of hundred thousands of thin worms began to grow in and replaced the old. Seconds by seconds, the dying boy turned to a little angle, born anew.

When he woke, she noticed the change of his eyes—from grey to brilliant blue, wider and livelier. He rose. The first thing he noticed was his Mistress. Then the human. Hunger was shown in his face. In his eyes, especially, when they turned blood red. But he did not paunched. He was waiting for instructions.

"Good. I don't think you'd want your first to be that of a sick. Be patient and you shall be rewarded."

Patient equals reward. That was his first lesson.

The Lady took the boy's hand and they walked out. One second they were in the crumbling town, the next they were in somewhere completely different. It was brighter, livelier, with strong scent of fresh, healthy blood in the air. The dull sky was now replaced with sunny blue sky and white clouds. No signs of the plague at all. They were at a completely different town.

"Now you shall feast. Extant your worms." The same white worm-like creatures snaked out of her skin ever so naturally. This is the first time he noticed that not only did it not hurt her, but there was no mark left of where they broke out of her skin. The white snakes curled and crawled into the crowds ever so silently. No scream, no fuss. He watched closely without moving as they took the blood of those human upon skin contact.

He did the same thing, trying to imitate his Mistress as much as possible. Two white worm-like creatures sprawled out of his skin. They are the same as hers, only slightly slimmer and shorter. They too crawled into the ground and began lurking. They joined the crowd and took their blood, as silent as they could without those humans ever knowing.

It was strange to feel those creatures. They did not just move on their own, but also as how he willed them to. Extension of oneself, his Mistress explained. They too, had thoughts of their own. A primally, instinctive version. But they were part of him, hence the obedience.

"Always make them return and welcome them back. Don't leave traces." That was his second lesson.

"You," she called for him after some time. The 'boy' looked up to make eye contact, "What is your first memory?"

"I saw you, Mistress. You're very beautiful. I don't know why, but every time I see you make my chess feels warm. What is that feeling? It was like sun on my skin."

"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. He was the same. "I'm not sure. I think it came from the remanence of your humanity."

"What's a human?" he asked innocently.

"Where you got your food from," she answers truly.

There was no shock or fear shown on his face beautiful, but her answer got him thinking. "Was I your food?"


	3. Spawns

**Rigor Mortis**

 _Chapter 3: Spawns_

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"Hello, brother," her voice is soft like silk, yet warm and inviting — appealing characteristics that can rarely be found in an Ancient. Even her face is visually pleasing, with a small oval skull and delicate features. Her skin is pale like snow, smooth in texture and cool to the touch. Her hair floods around her frame, out of bound from gravity. But upon taking a closer look, one will notice that it is not hair, but her worms.

"First, long time no see," his hoarse, multiple voice greets her with acknowledgement. Sometimes she is called Lady, other times she is called the First — that is because that is who she is. She likes simple names. "Been traveling the world?"

"You know me so well, brother, the seventh and last of us," she speaks like she is chanting poetries.

"I trust you have been busy?"

" _You_ have been busier," she says, referring to the chaotic state of New York city. She stares deep into the abyss in his eyes, as if telepathically reading him. He bores his eyes back to her pupiless crimson ones with a mix of interest and amusement. Although there has been times when they are burn with hatred for each other, she has been the only one who can understand him, unlike the five others, who are either do not care, or simply opposing him.

It is like that having siblings. Sometimes you wish nothing more than to kill each other. He has to admit that he has done some things that earn her wrath, and so does she. But other times they just get along so well, like right now. But if they stick around too close, another war might erupt. That is why they try to stay away from each other's path as best as they can. The two understand this and try to avoid that conflict. The last time they did, many had died.

"How does your child bid?" he asks her with a chit chat tone. They both know he does not really care about him, or anyone else at that.

"Good as always. A bit rebellious sometimes, but you know what they say about teenagers," she replies with a bit of enthusiasm despite knowing that, more engorged on her dotingness to the youngling rather than anything, just like any parent would to a child. "But enough about mine. I am more interested about yours."

"Mine? I have plenty. You have to be a bit more specific about that."

"I'm talking about the half-blood, of course. Such a rare thing. Half strained, half not."

"You and your attraction to rarity." Is that a chuckle coming from him? "What do you want?"

"Do you still want him?"

"If I do? And if I don't? What if I want him dead? What of it?"

"You're not using him. Why not just give him to me?"

"The brat is slippery, and he is causing me a lot of trouble. You still want him?"

"I like training unruly kids. Besides, if he is out of your way, you won't be troubled with him much. I'll take him in, and then I will take him away. With me."

"Hm, seems reasonable enough. Though I still want to rip his throat out."

"Why pounders on one trivial thing, when you can have millions to destroy?"

"This particular brat has been bothering me for quite a while. There has been many times that my plan has been ruined by him. Besides, he is safe from the sun. He will only bring you trouble."

"Oh, brother. Don't tell me that you care about my safety now," she says teasingly, with a smile that makes him either want to hurt her or kiss her. She always has this strange attraction towards him. Is it because she has the Original's memory? Or is it perhaps something else. Because he can do something he will regret, he lifts he head he does not realize has been inching lower towards the female.

"I can take care of myself. We both know that very well. Besides, I like to experiment. Shiny new things keep me in check. Speaking about something new, do you know that I can walk under the sun now?"

"Really? Is that so?"

"I'm telling you that you can try also, but you'll have to figure out the how by yourself."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

She shrugs her small shoulders playfully. "Where's the fun in that?"

The Master is about to give up, when she utters the next few words.

"I can survive from decapitation too." He wants to groan in pain.

 _How?_

She chuckles at his frustration. His pain is her joy.

"Are you going away again?" he tries to change the subject.

"Soon. You know how it should be."

"You always more around and travel. While I have the thirst for blood, you have the thirst of knowledge. One day, it will consume and eat you up, I am sure."

"How knows? Maybe. Maybe I possess bigger thirst than you, because I have the memory burned in me. His memory feels like mine, yet not at the same time. I can tell the difference, most of the times."

"What are you going to do to him?"

"Would it matter?" It is clear that he does not care, as long as the troublesome thing is out of his way.

"It would matter not. But at last, I have other matters to attend to."

"So do I, I believe."

She offers him one last smile, before disappearing into the light.

The child of light. How envious he is.

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"Who are you?" he asks. He is just like the Seventh, in certain ways. She can see her brother echoes at his every move. Yet, at the same time, also different.

"I am the First," comes her silky voice, too soft it makes him jerks his head back in surprise.

"That's impossible . . . But, I have heard of you. I didn't think you'd really exist. I've heard spoke about you, but you are really hard to find."

"Oh, were you looking for me? How sweet. I am honored. Not many still remember my existence. I tend to not draw attention to myself. But to those I have interested about . . . well, that's a different story."

He is progressing what she is saying. She is showing herself to him, after all these time he spent searching for her. This means . . . she has some business with him? He does not know if this is a good or a bad sign.

"What do you want?" he asks again.

"You," she simply answers, walking towards him, circling him, accessing him. Then, she stops right in front of him, without very close reaching distance. She puts one palm over his chest, and all is lost. He has no idea what has possessed him. It feels like he has been dead all this time, yet her touch just awakens him. He looks at the world and her for the first time. It is . . . overwhelming.

"What's happening?" he asks, lost, his voice hoarse — hoarser than usual, and for the first he feels like his breath has caught in his throat.

"I am wooing you," she breathes out. Her breathe smells sweet and delicious. He wants nothing more than to inhale her deeply and burry himself within her so hard. He has no idea what has gotten him, and it scares him to suddenly feel this way towards a stranger.

She is no stranger, though. Not really. He has heard many tales of her from the other Ancients. She is incredibly intelligent. She is beautiful. And she is deathly. But even the facts do not scare him. He feels compelled to touch her.

"Why?" he asks, still too hesitant in acting on his own instinct, despite what it is telling him to do. She is just so intoxicating, and the way her eyes look at him makes him feel hot in the inside. How can someone so old, appears so young? Unlike the scaly skins the rest of the Ancients inherit, she possesses smooth, touchable pale skin.

"You look a bit lost, my dear. Do you need my help?" she whispers closely to him, her pink lips looking so inviting whenever it moves. They are so magnetizing, he almost misses what she is saying to him.

"Yes," he hisses a breathless respond, too uncontrollable to dare make a move.

"Then touch," she replies softly. Somehow, that is all the encouragement he needs.

But the man still hesitates.

"I feel your pain, Quinlan." How does she know his name? Is it true that the Lady knows all?

"I can release you from it. I can make you feel better," she coaxes him. It seems she hits the cords within him, because the next thing they know, he moves.

He has no idea what has overtaken him after that. He feels like he is in some short of trance. Everything blurs so fast. A power drug. Or has he finally been able to feel what bloodlust feel? Because being with her is like an endless thirst, with her being the only safe heaven he can only find. Without her, his world turns dark. He does not think he can ever part from her after that, and he does not want to. He forgets about everything and clings on to her, never letting go. She is bright like the sun, warm and comforting. And she is sun proofed also, just like him.

Unbelievable.

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 **A/N:** Sorry for not uploading for a while. The last seasons ended and so did my muse. Now that the third season has begun, I am inspired to write this fic again! :D

Anyway, as you all might have known, I am doing writing commissions. If you are not familiar with the term, it means I am writing tailor-made stories to my clients. The stories can be a fanfic or original, however the readers/clients like. So if you want some personalized stories for yourself, feel free to contact me. If you want to commission a continuation for this story, that is doable as well ^ ^

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Happy reading!

 _ **~StellaPurple**_


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